Revelation
by Vesperli
Summary: Sherlock is in a depressive mood. But this time it's not because of the lack of an interesting case...


**Title:** Never Let You Down Again  
><strong>Author:<strong> Vesper  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>Sherlock/John  
><strong>Spoiler: <strong>none  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Sherlock is in a depressive mood. But this time it's not because of the lack of an interesting case...

**Prompt:** # 96 Revelation

**Author's Note #1: **Thanks to the wonderful **BlueMoonOnTheRise** for proof-reading my little story. You did a great job! Thanks to you I've got my hope back :-)

**Author's Note #2: **I love Depeche Mode and their song "Never Let Me Down Again." Many fans think that this song has some gay innuendos. I always have to think about Sherlock and John while listening to it. That's why I thought of "Never Let Me Down Again" as the title of my Fanfiction.

**Author's Note #3**: Dedicated to **SonjafromHH** for being my Twitter-Cumberfriend. You know, what I mean? ;-)

It's late in the evening when John arrives at his home in 221 B Baker Street. He's had a long day at work. No wonder: it's winter and almost every child and adult in London seems to have the flu. All he wants is to get some rest and watch telly to relax. When he enters the living room he finds Sherlock sitting in his wing chair, the violin laying in his lap and his eyes staring at the telly. He's still wearing his pyjamas from last night.

"Oh come on, Sherlock."

The unexpected sound of Johns voice startles Sherlock a little bit, but the doctor doesn't care. He's angry with his flatmate and colleague. They had finished their last case four weeks ago and since then Sherlock hasn't even been in the mood to look for potential new cases in the internet.

"Shh, I want to watch this," he hisses, and his weary and washy blue eyes return to the television.

"No, you have to finally get up and work again."

"Then find me a case that's interesting enough."

"There have been enough interesting cases." John's shakes his head in disbelief. "That's not your problem, is it?

Sherlock flashes John a questioning look, as though he's not aware of having done anything wrong. He remains silent, which leaves John once more frustrated.

The death of the last delinquent has changed something inside of Sherlock and John doesn't dare to ask him. He knows that the consulting detective doesn't like to talk about his feelings that he strongly claims not to have. So he is still waiting for Sherlock to come up with an explanation. Instead, the detective has decided to become depressive: no longer capable of handling daily duties and responsibilities like paying the rent, going for grocery shopping and washing himself.

Now, John is at the end of his tether. Something has to happen and it was better today than tomorrow. John isn't eager for Sherlock to commit suicide. He would never admit that he's always worried about Sherlock... and yet that doesn't prevent him from taking care of the sociopath.

"Get up!" John takes Sherlock by his arm in an attempt to lift him. "You finally have to take a shower, get dressed and eat something."

"I'm not hungry and I feel perfectly well in my pyjamas."

"But you haven't eaten in days," John says, voicing his concern. "At least let me get you some tea before dehydration hits you, and you pass out."

"Why can't you just leave me alone? Why does the sociopath interest you at all?"

John eyes widen at this statement. "The socioptah' is a friend of mine. That interests me."

"Since when am I a friend of yours?"

"Since when is that an appropriate question? Of course we're friends. Why else would I risk my life for you and share my precious free time with you?"

_Why else would I risk my life for you? _That's it. That simple declaration is the reason Sherlock isn't himself. He doesn't want John to risk his life for him ever again. It would mean...Sherlock stares at a point in mid-air like he always does when something bothers his mind. He doesn't want to think of what would happen if John...

"Sherlock? Are you listening?" It must be the thousandth time that John has asked him this, disturbing him, and preventing him from sinking deep into his thoughts.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Sherlock drops his head.

"I have said that..."

"Yes, alright," Sherlock interrupts, waving with his arms to stop John from further talking, and avoiding his gaze. John scrunches up his face in deep concern. Something very serious is happening, and he can't tell what.He has to swallow as his strong and long fingers clasp around Sherlocks' awfully skinny upper arm to seek his full attention. 

"You've lost weight again..."

"John, I want to watch this!" Sherlock again tries to distract the doctor from their conversation because he doesn't want to talk with John about his feelings. Not to save his life.

John takes a step back so that he's no longer blocking Sherlock's view. He seems to have had a very bad day and John couldn't tell if Sherlock being red-eyed was because of the lack of fresh air or...a certain realisation hits John like a train.

"Are you doing drugs again?" John is appalled. That would explain everything; the depression, the lack of appetite, the loss of weight and general desinterest in everything.

"Don't be ridiculous." 

"Then tell me what it is!"

"That's none of your business!"

That's it. John is no longer able to stand Sherlock's mood changes. Trying to take care of the detective and always being scared he's about to come across his dead body is exhausting him. He rushes into his bedroom and comes back with his overnight bag, filled with necessary clothing and sanitary products.

"Where are you going?"

John hesitates, not sure whether to tell Sherlock the truth or leave him with a white lie. He decides to tell just the half of the truth, convinced that Sherlock would know within seconds that John had lied to him.

"To Sarah. She's said that I can stay with her whenever I need a break from working and living with you."

In his current state of mind Sherlock doesn't need to know that John doesn't plan to return to 221B Baker Street, that he needs distance from Sherlock, because he is afraid to get caught in the cloud of dark thoughts that's hovering above Sherlock's head with no chance of escaping. 

Sherlock only nods in agreement, and before John turns his back on him to leave Sherlock's last glance takes posession of him, causing goose pimples to rise on his flesh .

"Goodbye," says Sherlock quietly, and his tone implies an emotion John isn't able to identify.

John leaves the flat with a weird feeling of confusion and concern and he doesn't look back, but he hopes that Sherlock can fend for himself.

"Don't go," murmurs Sherlock later, when John is already on the street, and of course he knows that the doctor obviously doesn't want to return to 221B Baker Street. He can always see through a white lie and tell when someone tries to be diplomatic. With this thought, he stands up to head for the bathroom to take a bath. This is very uncommon for him, but warm water always helps him to think when everything else fails. And thinking is something he badly has to do, because avoiding the issue doesn't help him to solve his problem.

John's low budget forces him to take the tube to Sarah, and as he walks down to Baker Steet station, a sudden thought hits his mind. Sherlock never says "goodbye" to John, and hadn''t he learned in hospital back then that people who want to kill themselves always say something uncommon, and that this is a hidden message? A hidden request for help?

With despair filling his mind and panic raising in his chest, John suddenly starts to sprint back to 221B Baker Street. He lets go of his bag, regardless of the pedestrians passing him. The worst case scenario popping up in his head, John is putting all his energy into his legs to run as fast as he can.

"Sherlock, please," he mutters with gritted teeth, afraid that he might be too late. He pulls out the keys from his pocket and when he stops in fronft of his, their, flat it only takes him a few seconds to open the door and hurry up the stairs.

"Sherlock!" he screams. "Where are you?"

Silence. A maddening silence is suddenly surrounding John, and the fear is paralysing every muscle in his body so that he isn't able to move any further. He's standing in the middle of the living room, trying to calm down, to chase off the dizziness forming in his head because of the lack of oxygen. Johns stomach is cramping, the missing data overwhelming him only leaving one suspicion: either Sherlock has left the flat or he is in his bedroom, lying flat on his back in his bed, beside him a gun or an empty pillbox.

"Please God; let him be alive," John whispers, slowly approaching Sherlock's bedroom to find an open door. Sherlock's private room is a mess, with all his things scattered across the floor. At first John hasn't the heart to look up, because the image of Sherlock lying dead in his bed is already excruciating for him. He feels like he has to throw up momentarily. But then he's throwing a glance at the bed, just to realise that Sherlock isn't there. Immediately, John is thinking about the bathtub, a very sharp knife and Sherlock taking a bath in his own blood. Yes, as a doctor John is well versed in the methods of killing oneself, and for the first time in his life he really wishes he hadn't studied medicine.

Without pondering too long again, John rushes into the bathroom at the end of the hallway, pushing open the door with a kick. He discovers Sherlock laying in the bathtub, his head completely under water, his arms hanging lifelessly right and left on the edge of the bathub. John tries to spot his chest to check if Sherlock is still breathing, but he can't see it through the foam on the water .

"Sherlock!" John gasps, jumping forward automatically, his brain now working without really thinking. Adrenalin is flushing John's body and the familiar feeling of alertness takes possession of him. He lets his arms slide under Sherlock's armpits to get a better grip, and it takes him a huge amount of muscular strenght to pull the detective out of the bathtub and place him on the ground. John's clothing is soaked with water and it would be easier for him to help Sherlock if he got rid of his now very heavy jacket, but he doesn't care. All that matters is Sherlock. He fumbles for Sherlock's pulse at the side of his neck and he is relieved to feel it slightly pulsing under his thin skin.

"Sherlock! Can you hear me?" John speaks directly into Sherlock's ear, searching for a pillbox at the same time because he isn't sure if Sherlock has taken any medicine. But he can't find anything suspicious in the bathroom. Then, he assumes that Sherlock is perhaps just struggling with his blood pressure. No wonder if you don't eat and drink properly for days, John thinks. But John isn't completely convinced of his own theory. After all, Sherlock is a former drug addict and any drug imaginable could be running trough his veins right now.

Sherlock's skin feels cold beneath his fingers, and his lips are already becoming blue. John takes a large bath towel to wrap around Sherlock, who seems to be just unconscious and not in mortal danger. John slaps Sherlock in the face to wake him up, and first he doesn't succeed but when John is fishing for his mobile phone in his pocket to call an ambulance, Sherlock suddenly opens his eyes, coughing and curling under John, who tries to prevent his best friend from falling into a panic attack by pressing him tighter onto the ground. Although it would be unlikely for Sherlock to suffer from a panic attack, John knows from personal experience that people sometimes do react in such a way when they realise they can't breath properly for the first few seconds after waking up from being unconscious.

"Shh, Sherlock. Just calm down. You're safe now." Whilst Sherlock is winding down, John leans back against the tub, dragging Sherlock into his arms, taking two or three deep breaths. His heart rate is dangerously high because of the adrenalin and John is feeling a little dizzy again. He closes his eyes, never letting go of Sherlock's hand, pretending just to hold it so that he can control Sherlock's pulse over the next few minutes, to make sure that he doesn't pass out again.

"What happened?" Sherlock asks with a husky voice, still struggling for breath and holding onto John's arms.

"Sherlock, listen. It's very important. I need to know if you have taken any medicine or drugs," John says without paying Sherlock's question any attention. 

"Why would I do that?"

"Please, could you just answer my question?"

„No, no..." Sherlock moans. „No drugs and no medicine." His breathing is still heavy. "John, what happened?" Sherlock asks again, hating how things were completely out of his control.

"You passed out," John answers, pressing his best friend tightly to his chest before grabbing a dressing gown to cover Sherlock, who is shaking from the cold.

"How long?"

"Only a few minutes, I guess. Otherwise you would have drowned by now."

"Why did you come back?" Sherlock wants to know. "Had you forgotten something?"

"I was concerned you would do something very stupid and as I can see I wasn't wrong" John promptly answers.

"Could you please enlighten me as to what you are talking about?" Sherlock asks, without knowing, wondering what John was actually talking about

"I'm talking about your attempt to kill yourself."

"I really don't know why I would kill myself, John." Sherlock is now breathing regularly again but slowly getting angry at John and his incomprehensible chitchat.

John doesn't respond in any way and Sherlock assumes that his silence must be the result of not believing his words. Sherlock clears his throat.

"John," he almost whispers, sensing that his friend obviously needed some reinforcement to believe him when he says that he isn't tired of life. "John, I really didn't want to kill myself."

John is sighs, arguing with himself as to whether to trust Sherlock or not.

"Why do you think that?" Sherlock wants to know.

„Well, it's a logical conclusion. You're depressive, without hope, because you don't see any chance of things getting better."

"You know that's not true."

"Yeah, right. I forgot you're a sociopath," John says in an exaggerated manner, sighing dramatically.

"It's not because I'm a sociopath," Sherlock interrupts. "There's no logical reason to contemplate suicide."

„Then why did you try to drown yourself in the bathtub?"

„Gosh! Why don't you understand that this was not a suicide attempt? I just have to think from time to time in a bathtub to be not disstracted. Normally this is very strange and a last resort for me; but my thoughts wouldn't stop. As you know usually they come to an end, otherwise I couldn't solve the cases. And although we've technically solved our last case there has been one certain thought I can't bring to an end. That and the thought itself scares me."

John feels tears rising in his eyes, and at the same time the urge to laugh out loud. The relief of Sherlock not trying to kill himself is flowing through his body and the mass of feelings are overwhelming him.

"What thought?" John is really interested, but not prepared for Sherlock's answer. 

"The thought of losing you."

Sherlock's straightforwardness leaves John speechless, with absolutely no idea of an adequate answer to that. Water drops are dripping from Sherlock's wet hair and leave damp traces on John's beige-coloured trousers. He's not sure about the meaning of Sherlocks words, and he's afraid to think that they could mean something different from what he secretly wishes. After a silent pause he asks:

"What does that mean?"

Sherlock sighs out loud.

"You're such an idiot sometimes. It means that I'm afraid that you might die."

"I know that Sherlock!" John looks affronted „But..."

John hesitates, composing the right words. He wonders what he could have done to cause Sherlock to think so.

„But what?" Sherlock notices John's hesitation, and although he can also tell the reason for it, he leaves John wondering, amused by the attempts of his only friend to understand his feelings.

"I don't understand. I mean – uhm - we're just flatmates and colleagues"

"So ,you would like to know if my fear has something to do with certain feelings I could have for you?"

„I see it's senseless trying to fool you."

Sherlock chuckles.

„Indeed."

They remain silent for a few moments, an uncomfortable silence growing between them, since John is still cradling the worn out Sherlock in his arms.

"But why are you suddenly afraid of losing me?" John can't possibly think of another question to interrupt the awkward silence.

Sherlock raises his head to look into John's eyes.

"You risked your life for me when our last contravener tried to stab me. He hit you instead: and although it's just a little superficial lesion on your back it shocked me to see you that vulnerable; and to see how it easy it would be for you to be snatched from life...from me..."

His words touch John's heart deeply.

"Shh, Sherlock. Everything's alright. I'm fine."

John soothes Sherlock by stroking his back, grinning like an idiot because of Sherlock confessing his love in such an extraordinary way. He feels flattered and the urgent need to kiss Sherlock. 

„Would you let me try something?" John asks, as suddenly an idea comes to his mind.

Sherlock sceptically raises an eyebrow.

"Anything you would like. I'm too tired to defend myself."

"Close your eyes."

"John, what..."

"Please, just close your eyes."

Sherlock obeys and closes his eyes. At the same time his left hand grabs Johns right hand as if he was afraid of what was coming. Somehow, John has to smile about his childish behaviour. It is very clear to him that Sherlock is uncomfortable with physical contact, and handling the unanticipated feelings he has for his friend.

"Have you ever been in love," John is curious to know. "Or in a relationship? I mean..."

„I thought you wanted to try something?"

"Yeah, sorry. It's just..."

But before John can finish what he wants to say, Sherlock's free hand is already embracing his neck and pulling down his head. John is too perplexed to do or say anything and so Sherlock has no problem placing his pale pink lips on John's indescribably tender ones. 

With the tip of his tongue lightly playing with John's upper lip, Sherlock tries to demand admittance to his mouth. But John is reluctant to give him permission. The whole situation is frightening him and, when Sherlock notices his insecurity he slowly seperates them, not wanting to confuse John more than he already is.

Sherlock inhales John's discreet scent: a mixture of soap, aftershave and toothpaste that he always smells whenever John is near to him. He still has his eyes closed, saving and cataloguing every nanosecond of their kiss. He was uncertain of there being a repetition;, because John keeping still could possibly mean that he was either very shocked and disgusted at kissing another man or...

"Wow...that was..." John suddenly says, without warning. John doesn't know how to exactly describe his feelings. This kiss is like a revelation to him a feeling, he hadn't been aware of he'd actually missed- and he has no idea how to handle it now. Of course, he remembers all the boys he'd been in love with at school, but he'd always thought of them as harmless crushes. It has to be _Sherlock _causing him to overthink his sexuality for the first time in his life. And he's grateful for that.

"Awesome?" Sherlock suggests, now alluringly smiling all over his face.

"No...I mean...yes, but so different from kissing women."

"I can't compare."

"So, you have never kissed a woman?"

"At least not in a sexual way," Sherlock simply answers.

„How did you know that I was going to kiss you?" 

Shertlock's mischievous countenance John loves so much emerges again.

"Men generally tend to prove their feelings with a kiss. No matter if they are hetero or homosexual."

John considers Sherlock's words.

"I guess you could be right."

"Of course I am."

„You seem to have a lot of experience on this topic, then?" 

"No, I don't," Sherlock says, without sounding very convincing.

"So how can you possibly know all these things?" 

"I observe, John..and" Sherlock pauses. „There was once a young man at university."

John is really and truly surprised that Sherlock, the sociopath, who's always avoiding to staying in touch with other people except from his flatmate and brother, is already one step ahead.

„So you are gay?" John asks outright.

Sherlock sighs.

"I've never said that I'm gay, but I presume that I must be bisexual at least since I could prove my feelings for you today." 

"I'm glad that I could help," says John, stroking Sherlock's head gently. "But couldn't you prove it with your boyfriend at university?"

"He was just an experiment. I needed data to improve my skills in deduction for certain aspects of human life. I wasn't in love with him."

"You took advantage of his feelings for you?"

"He didn't mind," Sherlock says. "As long as he could be with me."

"Well then!"

"Um, John..." Now that John knows how he's feeling, Sherlock would like to find out about his best friend's emotional state, but doesn't know how to guide their conversation into the right direction.

"Yes?" John lifts Sherlock head with his hand, looking directly into his eyes in bewilderment, when he realises that Sherlock is clueless, and totally dependent on John leading the conversation.

"Whatever it is, just tell can trust me and I promise not to storm off."

John's reassurance seems to be working. Sherlock's body releases a bit of its tension, and he looks up to see John's reaction to his words.

"I have never been in love before and, um...I don't know how people do it normally and I don't want to unsettle you." 

"Sherlock, you can't unsettle me. I've known you for two years now and the only thing left to surprise me is you getting personal and intimately involved with another person."

"And when I say that that is exactly what I want?"

John's mouth falls open, his hand stopping it's subconscious stroking of Sherlock's hair.

"Are you saying that you would like to be in a relationship with me?" John can't believe it. Can't believe that Sherlock's feelings are already this deep and intense. Not to mention that he can't imagine Sherlock being in love with him, an ordinary and boring man who can't compete with his massive intellect.

"I'm still detecting my feelings but I can say for sure that I want to be together with you. I feel uncomfortable when you're not around; missing the warmth of your body from when you're standing right next to me. And it hurts me seeing you with Sarah."

John can hear him swallowing hard at his last sentence. 

His hand is lightly shaking, but somehow Sherlock manages to take John's arm, squeezing it.

"I can completely understand that you don't want to be in a relationship with me. I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with and I even don't know if you are feeling the same. And there is still Sarah..."

"Sarah and I are just friends, Sherlock," John interrupts. "We decided to break it off. You would know if you hadn't been wallowing in self-pity for the last few weeks."

"That wasn't self-pity, John!" Sherlock complains. „I never feel sorry for myself."

"But you have to admit that you felt bad because of me - or rather because of the feelings you have for me. You know, some people call this 'heartsickness' but I doubt you're going to accept that explanation."

"John, you're right. I feel bad because you are not returning my feelings."

"Who says that?" John places a soft kiss on Sherlock's forehead, mumbling something against it Sherlock can barely understand. „Maybe it's not love, but there's definitely affection I feel for you, because you're my friend. And who knows what the future holds for us. What the future holds for me. Maybe God has planned for me to fall in love with a man and I just have to recognize it." 

"So you're saying that you could be already in love with me?"

„Sherlock, I always thought I was heterosexual, but since I've known you I'm not sure anymore. Don't get me wrong... I'm not saying that I'm in love with you, but there are some certain feelings I...um, that I have to think about."

Sherlock nods.

"Well, then we'll just have to figure it out. Sounds like a good new..."

„No!" John exclaims. „This is not going to be one of your experiments. Do you understand?"

"Fine, no experiments," Sherlock agrees. „But you're going to stay with me in our flat?"

"Yes, I will stay. But on one condition."

Sherlock stirs in anticipation, his eyes curiously searching John's face.

"Whatever you want." 

"Sherlock, you have to promise me that you're going to talk to me the next time you feel overwhelmed by your feelings. Then I will really try forcing you into eating and drinking so that you don't pass out again."

Sherlock gently giggles with his husky voice

"I guess it's not an advantageous combination to be bored and unhappily in love with your flatmate. That always gets me depressive"

"I'm serious, Sherlock!"

„I promise." This Sherlock can handle, and he's glad that John isn't demanding something more difficult.

„And..." John starts, cupping Sherlock's face in both hands and holding it in place. „You have to promise not to squeeze me."

„You have all the time in the world. But you have to promise something, too."

„What is it?"

„Never let me down again."

„I will never let you down again," John promises, the sense of guilt over wanting to move out and leave Sherlock behind causing him bellyache.

„Then we're fine," Sherlock answers, letting John cradle him, until they both decide that it's time to go to bed.


End file.
